


F R A N S W E E K

by aficariacx



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°), A little mix many AUs, Ballerina, Death, Don G - Freeform, Drawing, F/M, Fransweek, Frisk POV, Frisk is confused, Judgement Hall, Past Scientist Sans, Sans Don, Scientist Sans?, UF!Sans, Waterfall bushes, White haired boy, Winter, Your local branded soap, because why not, blue eyes frisk, brown haired girl - Freeform, creepy stalker sans, edgey, eyyyy fransweek day 4 comin, frustrated Frisk unhappy, gentleman hair Frisk, hiphop?, hospital room, how about both, judgmental skeletons, mafiatale?, oh wow mentions of papyrus and grillby, or is it Dancetale!Sans, pacifist run, scientist!sans - Freeform, sexy but fluffy shower scene, skeleton hubby wants a good time with girlfriend, steamy shower, third person actually, white hospital room, woah sexy singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9637931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aficariacx/pseuds/aficariacx
Summary: A compilation of Fransweek Drabbles.Since, everyone else is doing it-- and y'know, I think http://fransweek.tumblr.com/ is having a hard time tryna keep up with the reblogs, hence why I think posting my drabbles here with lighten the mood.Seriously! Go check the blog, lovely art, so much-- MMMMM <3So YEAH!Day 1 : First ___ ?Day 2 : WaterfallDay 3 : An AUDay 4 : JudgementDay 5 : OverworldDay 6 : WinterDay 7 : Valentine's Day.





	1. First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> My little take on Fransweek!  
> Check out for updates at @fransweek from 8th to 14th February :)
> 
> Credit to @teandstars for Dancetale! :D  
> Credit to @thebananafrappe for the little mix of Dalliance~

It had been awhile since Frisk had a dance partner.

 

Ballet had been the younger brunette’s forte. An art built purely for solitary style—for the _Prima Ballerina_.

 

She was a naturally born prodigy in the arts of the expressive dancing. It wasn’t because she loved the pink frilly tutu, or the rugged moldy ends of her ballet shoes, nor because of the constant melodic music that seems to pulls you along like magic. No, it was because Frisk had been a mute for her whole childhood—not because she was _actually_ mute.

 

She just chose to be.

 

Dancing was her socializing medium, her voice, her mouth, her soul. She had been expressing herself, her wants and needs through the art itself—to the grace of dancing. And by the Gods, damn it all— _she loves it._

 

But now?

 

_She was beginning to regret having him as a partner._

 

It had started off seeing if he could be compared to her Sans—the Sans from a timeline long ago. If he could dance as well as the happier and much more laid back skeleton could because she hadn’t had a real or proper dancing partner before, and when she finally did—

 

Either way, she had let go her chance God knows how many timelines ago. But still, right now, it still felt like she was cheating. It made her feel dirty and guilty and what would her Sans thought if he saw her dancing with someone else?

 

And with _this_ Sans, of all people.

 

Despite his rough interior and pretty rude attitude, he wasn’t lying in his expertise. It was pretty obvious that monsters express themselves through dancing, and Frisk had known that since she first fell underground timelines ago. But despite that, only through a genocide run had Frisk actually saw Sans dance with emotion.

 

_And so did she._

 

However, in this timeline where everyone lived by the motto, “kill or be killed.” Everyone was already losing their beat. And it was up to Frisk to bring it back, bring the art of expression back to the underground. If it would mean cleansing her sins from timelines ago. And here she was, stuck in the judgment hall with the short, sharp-fanged, red hooded skeleton.

 

He was sure in assisting with her leaps. His precision in counts was flawless. Despite being of a more edgy and hip-hop background, he held her arabesque with much care and dipped her closer to the floor like she had intended.

 

_And he never let go._

 

There was no music playing in the background as compared to the other encounters she had had throughout her adventure in the underground. It was silent, their dance was accompanied with just the sound of bird chirping and the whistling of the wind. But, the skeleton didn’t hesitate as she prepared with a fondu and he lifted her high, _higher than the other Sans ever did._

 

One hand on her slender waist, and the other slowly slipping up her thigh—it was as if he was teasing her, caressing her each and every nerve. It was intimate and Frisk didn’t know what to do, only did her best to ignore the prognostic flush on her cheeks, concentrating on the dance because she had to get it over with it and the skeleton was the only one who doesn’t give two damn if the his doppelganger would get jealous—

 

“kid,” the sound of his voice was much rougher than the Sans she knew, but it still had the same edge and power held over her. Frisk gave out a short gasp when she felt his warm breath brush against her bare neck. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, leaning against his chest now, their legs overlapped in a spread split, trying to calm their uneven breaths.

 

It was as if they had done something else, something more scandalous than dancing.

 

“looks like this is the end.”

 

She knew it was. But she didn’t want to let go, and she didn’t know why. Despite his statement, the skeleton showed no intention to move either—both parties still stuck close to each other, breathing in each other’s scent accompanied with the mellow smell of blooming flowers.

 

“Once more?” Her voice was stretched but quiet—it came out as a whisper.

 

It was far too intimate than she had experienced, but for some reason, she want him, she needed him. And by the sound of moving bones, and his huff of breath, he agrees of the latter.

 

“alright  _danseuse_ —from the top.”


	2. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short, uninspired bullshit of creepy sans wanting to find out about his human’s eyes.   
> i had always wondered if Frisk even had eyes, does she?  
> Who knows?

Frisk had passed by the familiar looking sentry station and had looked at how it was empty. She stopped for a moment, before looking around—possibly for the short lazy skeleton. But he wasn’t there, not this time. Her face was filled with confusion, unsure of why there was a sudden variable in the timeline continuum. Pushing away her thoughts, she decided to continue on without having the lunch date with the shorter skeleton.

 

_"i'll never forget the expression on her face, because i couldn't tell what it was.”_

 

It began as a thought, and ended as an action.

 

Sans hadn’t give himself a second thought about following the girl through her transverse in the underground. And he hadn’t thought about it, but by Gods, he was curious about how her eyes really looked like.

 

Throughout her journey, she had miraculously kept her eyes shut, not tight but enough to cover what lies behind those lids. Sometimes, it became a habit for the shorter skeleton to imagine what color her iris was, or how it looked like. Sometimes he gave an image of nothing, of black patches that cover her vision. He knew he shouldn’t even bother, shouldn’t even care, but damn it all—he used to be a scientist, and curiosity is his weakness.

 

Despite that, it was probably just an excuse.

 

The girl herself was a mystery, the thought of her falling into underground, the thought of her still being nonchalant about being near a new species—let alone monsters. And how despite what she had been through, being beaten and bruised by his kind, she hadn’t cried or shown any expression of pain. It was as if she had already expected what’s there to be expected.

 

And then there was the issue of him feeling the sense of déjà vu, and the sense of familiarity somehow coming from the same human. Despite the lingering feeling dragging him by the mind, Sans still felt something was not right. For example, the fact that deep down in his nonexistent brain, he remembered the human being much younger than how she looks now.

 

_And by the Gods, does she look so much more_ —

 

Either way, there are many reasons to why Sans was following her. He had questions and he wants answers. Thus, he felt the more reasons to actually follow her this time. Anyways, by the notes he had kept about all the previous timelines, he had never actually followed the human this far. To think that the merciful soul would actually walk all the way back to give a broken statue an umbrella.

 

The human had begun humming an all too familiar tune whilst staring at the broken statue. But that wasn’t what had caught the shorter skeleton off guard. Her eye lids slowly opened—the long eye-lashes fluttered slowly, catching rain drops that fell on top of them. Sans wanted to see, wanted to solve the most aggravating question in his mind—

 

Trying to come out from the bushes without catching the attention of the human, he almost let out a gasp.

 

“ _her eyes was red as the setting sun, as vibrant as her determined soul. but despite that, it held something more.”_

 

Frisk immediately turned around to where the sound came from, squinting her crimson eyes just by a bit—trying to focus into the bushes more. The sound of rustling was heard, and quickly with a determined course, the timid brunette walked towards the shrubs. But there was no one there.

 

At a distance, Sans let out a short but relieved sigh to escape his clapped grin.

 

_“in the crimson iris of the human, held a_ _cross between confusion, fear, sadness— and something else, something darker than I ever could have imagined, lingered in her eyes. it was as if her eyes speak of the emotions she had, raining down like a waterfall—it was drawing me in like a black hole."_

 

Sans felt heat peppering his skeleton cheeks, turning his face into a light blue hue. Despite the embarrassing thought, he couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. For one, he did not regret following the human after all.

 

To him, things had gotten much, _much_ more interesting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr -  
> http://aficaria.tumblr.com/


	3. An AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An EXTREMELY short prompt of Don G/Sans tryna woo Frisk from singing.  
> And daaaayum, did he do it good!  
> Ok, but seriously-- sexy man, sexy voice.
> 
> Don G - @nyublackneko   
> UnderMafia - @kiatokid

It was uncommon.

 

It wasn’t the fact that he was a minority in a major bustling human city, nor was it because he was a walking human anatomy with only a classical tux covering his bare bones. It was uncommon because he hadn’t actually thought of being in a dark jazz bar, sat on top a stool and hidden behind a velvety curtain.

 

It was uncommon because he didn’t think he would actually a make a bet— _a deal_.

 

And boy, was it even uncommon for the skeleton to lose; especially to one of his underling. He was getting too old and rusty, and he hasn't even turn forty. Thanks, Asgore.

 

Slowly, the curtains began to drift apart. The sounds of squeaking rusted metal echoed throughout the empty jazz bar. It wasn’t that the skeleton was nervous—there wasn’t a crowd to begin with. Just the presence of his brother, his brother’s fellow mates, the owner of the bar and _her._

 

The small audience gave a small cheer, supporting him as he stared at the microphone placed in front of him. The skeleton started to feel regret in making that bet, and he really felt like opting out of it right now. But a promise was a promise, especially when the skeleton had done it with a pretty lady.

 

**And damn—was she fucking pretty.**

 

Here, sat Don G—clad in his usual blue hue suit, hat tilted to the right, butt stuck to the stool—not even making a sound. The skeleton, turned his attention to the lady seated in the further back. The audience’s claps slowly descends and halt as the band behind him had started to play the music he had requested.

 

G takes a deep breath, looking up and staring at the girl at the end. The pretty lady simply smirked at him, lifting her delicate hand, ushering him to start. She was mocking him, and he knew it. Not wanting to be outwitted by a lady, G felt determined to sing.

 

If it meant that it would sweep her out of her own two feet.

 

_“fire and ice colliding, i wanna go deep and dive in—it’s heaven on earth but hell of a night to melt into one.“_

 

It had been awhile since he actually sung, the only time he did was during his father’s funeral—and that was ages ago. Hence, why the cheeky maiden at the back had taken an interest and curiosity to hearing his voice. His voice was deep, let it held a certain light pitch to it; it could be described in many ways.

 

_“she’s never been afraid of sirens, head down but keep drivin’—damn we might crash, moving so fast but baby;“_

 

G allowed the melody of the music to lead him, following each pitch to allow him an easy transition of singing. It was dark, it was emotional, and suddenly it was rich—and eventually his voice started to overpower the music in the background. Despite that, he haven’t allowed his eyes to linger.

 

_“—don’t stop, I need it. release me, it’s too hard for me to hold.”_

 

Constantly, his eyes remained on the lady at the back.

 

“ _my heart bleeding, your touch, it thrills me to the bone.”_

 

From the dimly lighted stage, G could see the lady’s composure—she was beginning to fidget. Her cheeks was flustered, and her lips was tightly nipped by the upper rack of her teeth. _And by the gods—_ does the skeleton was proud that he was making her feel that way.

 

_“oh lord, forgive us, honest, we’ve lost control baby—“_

 

Eventually, the young maiden knew what the don was playing. Yet despite that, she couldn’t hide her gaze from him. The skeleton’s eyes were dim, his pupil were glowing a dull gold. The brunette had wanted to have the last laugh. But here she is, both palms held onto the handle of the chair a little too tightly, thinking to herself, was it worth it?

 

_“—nothing can stop this love,“_

 

 Her heart was hammering against her chest, each beat echoed through her ears.

 

_“nothing can stop this love.”_

 

The skeleton’s voice had begun to strain a little, but G held his ground—he wasn’t going to lose. Despite that, G was having fun—he hadn’t felt this proud in a long time. Even when the bet’s all in her favor. But watching her flushed cheeks growing redder was worth it. And judging from how her eyes was sparkling at him, he knew—

 

_“never gon’ get enough—”_

 

And he’s going to very well enjoy his victory, taking what is rightfully his.

 

As the music slowly descends, the skeleton felt it was the perfect time to pull one more mischief. In a puff of smoke, the Don appeared right in front of the maiden. His skeleton teeth cocked to the right, arrogantly he gave the pretty lady a grin. The brunette may have won the battle, but it looks like he had won the war. Bent down, his smirk right next to her already red ears, he whispered—

 

“and nothing can stop it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone isn't caught up with recent times in radios--  
> The song used here is Darkness and Light by John Legend featuring Brittany Howard~  
> Take a sip here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DEGFE1dM50
> 
> Tumblr - http://aficaria.tumblr.com/


	4. Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story of judgments, of thoughts and worries- of actions and anger.  
> A skeleton, the voice of opinion and the man who makes the final verdict in the underground.
> 
> What if you had been a pacifist in a world of killers?   
> In the end, you wonder, was the pain worth it all?

“well, well, well. looks like the human survived through hell, congrats.”

 

You couldn’t help but stared nonchalantly at the skeleton stood in front of you. Sans, the skeleton called himself—was clad in his usual edgy-styled jacket, his laces on his sneakers still untied but yet, his permanent grin somehow seemed strained. He looked like he doesn’t even want to be here. Despite that, he hasn’t move an inch.

 

His hands—both—still stuffed in his jacket’s pockets.

 

“you look like yer expecting something.”

 

You blinked, thinking to yourself whether if you do. The smell of rotten flowers trailed from the throne room, and ironically—you couldn’t hear any birds chirping from outside the hall’s windows. What made you assume that there was supposed to be bird, you don’t know. Maybe because, everything seemed so nostalgic, but almost at the same time, there’s some differences here and there.

 

But you’re not sure why.

 

“Is there something to be expected?” You asked with a tinge of curiosity.

 

The skeleton simply scoffed. His nonexistent brow rose, almost actually impressed with your question. Nonetheless, he wasn’t exactly shock of your reply, as if he had foreseen it—just hadn’t thought you had the guts to ask. The sound of his bones cracking as he went to loosen his posture. Huh, he’d probably stood there for some time.

 

_Had he known you were on the way?_

 

Sans still played his cool, rude attitude. “you tell me kid; you tell me.”

 

“I’m not sure what you’re asking—“

 

**“d o n ’ t  g i v e  m e  t h a t  b u l l s h i t .”**

 

You lips instantly fell into a frown. You had known that the shorter skeleton had a much shorter temper compared to his younger brother. But it was getting tedious to deal with it, especially since he had tried to kill you billions of times throughout your adventure. Even when he had done it directly and indirectly.

 

And yet, you still show mercy to the guy.

 

“Are you here to kill me for fun again?”

 

“nah, gettin’ real tired of that.”

 

You bit your lower lip, unsure why he still kept you rooted to the ground—unsure why you couldn’t seem to move if he hadn’t plan on killing you. The scent of dust littered the hallway. You wonder how long has it been since the monster king actually had done spring cleaning. Your crimson eyes trailed to the window beside you, the glass was cracked and cobwebs seem to cling to the detailed metal railing.

 

Probably a long time.

 

“—uhm…if you don’t mind..” You start off.

 

“tell me kid, do you think even the worst people can change?”

 

Your eyes blinked in confusion, unsure why he had presented such a question. But if answering him would mean that you could get past him and continue along your journey, you felt like you had to humor him—just a little bit. Your right arm lifted, both your thumb and index finger pinched your chin. It looked like you were pondering for a moment, thinking of a much more suitable answer.

 

“Well—“ you trailed off, thinking of the society today.

 

How the justice system for humans had accepted the fact that criminals would be taught to change and be a much better person. How even those whom had done wrong in the past, would still be forgiven just because they apologized. But your mind begin to falter, remembering why you had decided to run up the mountain in the first place. You remembered the bruises you sustained, the questions asked every time you went to school, the lies you told to avoid being punished again, the pain, the torture—

 

Those faces.

 

Your mind drew a blank, but you felt tears falling from your eyes. Your throat burned, but no voice seem to escape your chapped lips. Both you and Sans stood what seemed like forever in the judgment hall. The only sound heard was your silent sniffles and Sans’ breathing.

 

“and yet you showed mercy.” He said. “those monsters, they hurt you. and I hurt you, yet you showed mercy.”

 

“I don’t get where this is going—“

 

Sans interrupted, letting out a very heavy sigh escape his sharp fangs. The grip he had on your soul lessen, and you gave in. Your bum landed on the floor with a thud, the dust immediately puffed up, causing you to wheeze and cough. In your attempt to clear your lungs off from the tiny particles, you hadn’t notice Sans walking towards you.

 

You looked up, noticing a skeletal hand reached out towards you. Unsure of what to do, the skeleton shakes his hand, not taking rejection all too kindly. Giving a small nod, you grabbed onto the palm as it hoists you up.

 

“Thank you—“

 

“nah kid, _thank you_.” He pointed out as a matter of factly.

 

“Uhm, what for?”

 

He scoffed again, completely annoyed with your naiveté. Regardless of that, he didn’t let go of your dusty palm. His pinpricks iris cocked to the side, not wanting to keep eye-contact with you, if you look closer, you could see dim red blush beginning to form on his cheeks.

 

It was cute.

 

“don’t think ya notice, kid. but we don’t bloody deserve yer mercy, but yet ya still do it anyways.” He dawned, finding his untied sneakers much more interesting. “we totally don’t deserve ya, y’know?”

 

“I—“ You didn’t know what to say.

 

You were speechless now, what the skeleton said was uncalled for. You really didn’t expect that, you assumed that he would have killed you, slam your body from the windows to the walls—coat the entire floor with your blood.

 

But this was unexpected.

 

“Wow, I mean, it’s not—I’m not—“

 

He moved away then, letting go of your petite hand, apparently saving you from embarrassment. He cleared his nonexistent throat, stealing your attention again. Sans bore his look into your eyes, and it somehow sent a shiver down your spine.

 

Or at least you assume it was because of him.

 

His left eye glow red, and his magic seem to flare out now. His red magic caught a grip on your determined soul again, keeping you in place as if he was trying to get back into script. As he spoke, his voice kept his edge, but it was dark and coarse, it almost sounded like he was flirting.

 

“tell me kid, is it even worth it to judge an angel? an angel like ya?”

 

_Was he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fransweek -  
> http://fransweek.tumblr.com/
> 
> Tumblr -   
> http://aficaria.tumblr.com/


	5. Overworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short fluff of the life above the underground. A story of scientist Sans finally having a day off and his lovely girlfriend had decided to take this time to spend it with him. 
> 
> I’m pretty sure it’s a little adult themed, so kids below 16, warning! :D

The skeleton bowed his head slightly, soothed by the feelings of her fingers gently caressing his rib bones, one at a time. The later dripped down his forehead and nearly into his eye sockets, but he hardly cared.

 

He had no eyes to begin with—just magic.

 

He wasn’t sure why he had agreed to take a shower with her in the first place. He had no skin, and the monster hadn’t ever left his laboratory since he was appointed as a lab assistant in a nearby research center. Hence, he wasn’t as dirty—he doesn’t sweat after all.

 

However, in that moment, he felt that her, massaging the top of his scalp, while he embraced her and rubbed the slippery bar of soap attentively down the back of her spine; it was the most intimate they had been all week. It was worth it.

 

The both of them were slow in their movements, careful to make the moment last forever—if not, longer.

 

Sans let her directly under the shower first. His skeletal palms went along to caress the sides of her waist, watching the residue of soap slowly slide from her body to the floor. When it was his turn, she pulled him over by grabbing his hands, holding his fingers above his head, urging him to spin like a ballerina. She giggled lightly, watching Sans’ horrific attempt to the twirl.

 

Right after he did his second turn, the girl stretched her hand, pulling her skeleton lover close to her. Chin on his chest, arms tucked under his, she smiled radiantly. He raised a brow when the brunette seemed to be finished and yet, hadn’t move a single inch away from where they are now.

 

As the soap eventually drifts off his body, Sans looked down at the girl lovingly. In the course of time, Sans let go of her arms, hands moving up and he flattened both his palms on the top of her head. Delicately, he smoothed out her soaking wet hair, pushing her bangs all the way back, leaving a couple of stray strands hanging on the side of her face.

 

“hmmm, if i weren’t standin’ infront of ya naked, i would’ve thought you would make a pretty damn good sir.” The skeleton chuckled, teeth chattering and ribs moving up and down in a slow manner.

 

The girl blinked, then her grin stretched from ear to ear. Her crimson red eyes were so radiant, staring into his bad-of-an-excuse pinprick iris. His chuckle seize then, almost regretting what he had started.

 

Frisk broke the still moment by suddenly reaching over to squirt some soap into her palm, vigorously rubbing it together to form a foam and plopping said foam atop her skeleton lover’s head. Her short choppy locks immediately drooped from the side, her gentleman hairstyle completely cleansed. The girl spent a couple moments to fix shapes into the foam, before eventually coming into a satisfied grin.

 

“Now, so do you.” Frisk said enthusiastically.

 

Slowly, Sans turned his attention to the hazy mirror. He felt he looked silly, but still his grin was buoyant. He took a moment to admire his lover’s good work before turning over and falling his toothed grin close to her ear.

 

“god, i love you.”

 

The skeleton whispered into her ear, a sprinkle of goose bumps cropped up in her shoulders and neck, turning her face as red as her eyes. Frisk, let out a sigh of content before allowing her partially dried arms to ghost behind his spine. One palm laid at his back whilst the other atop his clavicle, the brunette pressed her naked body closer to her lover.

 

“And I, you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fransweek -  
> http://fransweek.tumblr.com/
> 
> Tumblr -   
> http://aficaria.tumblr.com/


	6. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long ago, inside a distant memory, there is a voice that says—do you believe in a world of happy endings?  
> Even when the road seems long, every breath you take will lead you close to a special place within.
> 
> Your Neverever-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was inspired by --  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2eGazzxcp3I
> 
> Warning for Character death!  
> And a depressing tragedy (or is it) ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

Frisk was not the healthiest person at times.

 

Her thoughts were often plagued by tests that had to be done, doctors, pills and more sedation, and other varies medical related topics. She found herself, at times, unable to sleep because of the fear that consumed her.

 

But even with fears of dying constantly creeping into her thoughts, she still loved simple things. From the sound of birds singing from outside her window, the feeling of the wind blowing through the aperture, and the smell of fresh flowers placed into her vase daily. Her father had once bought her coloring books to occupy her time with.

 

“To fill your white room with some life.” He said.

 

Since then, she had begun to show an interest in art. Her father had spent countless of his earnings to buy Frisk new coloring books, new art supplies and so on. After being stuck in the hospital for years, she began to learn how to draw on her own. She wasn’t very good at first, heck—she can barely draw a stick figure perfectly. But that didn’t stop her, and eventually—her art became more and more beautiful.

 

Her favorite pass time quickly became drawing anything beyond her cubicle’s window. Her room had a great view of the local park. With nice trees dancing with the wind, just enough to shade a nearby little pond, it was the place Frisk could only dream of going to.

 

Her mother was protective and her father wants what is best for her—hence, she can’t.

 

Of course, she was allowed her small freedom by wondering around the hospital, like most others did, but she preferred to be unrestrained, to feel the grass beneath her feet. The smell the morning dews, the feeling of the hot summer sun, the burn of frozen snow falling on her face. But Frisk had only her small little white hospital room and the company of the hospital’s staff to get by.

 

Thence, her freedom was her drawing books. Each day, she would sketch and color a moment she want to live in her life. Her hands moves skillfully on the white canvas, all her hopes and dreams laid down on the sheet.

 

One day, while drawing the sun setting over the glossy water of the park’s pond, a knock came from the door. Her doctor came in with a boy, he didn’t look that much older than Frisk. His eyes was cerulean blue, his hair as white as snow. His eyes held mischief, and his grin held much more. Breath caught in her throat, Frisk stared at the young boy with intrigue.

 

“Ah, Frisk—this is my son, say hi.“ The doctor begin.

 

The white haired boy simply smiled and stuck his right arm out. “Hey! It’s nice to meet you! The name’s –“

 

And the next thing Frisk knew, the sound of a deflating whoopee cushion echoed throughout her hospital room.

 

X – X

 

Apparently, his younger brother had anemia—and had to come by the hospital for checkups once in a while. Hence, why he was brought along. When his younger brother was busy with an examination, the older sibling would come by to visit Frisk.

 

Day by day, the young boy would spend his time with Frisk. He had a small habit of gripping just above the elbow of his left arm when he was nervous. He is a cool person, calm and collected—seems to know more than his peers. The only person who could make him flustered seemed to be his little brother. The young boy would crack jokes after jokes, cheering her up whenever she felt down. So many little things, she observed about him, these little things— they were most important to her.

 

He was the first person Frisk could finally call as her friend.

 

It was autumn now.

 

The boy sat on the sofa in the corner of the hospital room, cerulean eyes engrossed in his portable Gameboy, unaware that she had been drawing him, lucky to have him stilled. Until he finally looked up from his screen, caught the younger girl’s eye on him, he gave a sincere smile.

 

“What are you doing? Show me.” He said.

 

Stunned by his attempt, she steadily lifted her drawing for him to see. The younger boy eyes almost poked out before he chuckled loudly at her. Embarrassed, Frisk chucked the drawing away, and hid herself under her duvet. He made no further attempt to talk with her that day.

 

For the next few days, the white haired boy poised himself on the same sofa with the same portable Gameboy, not making a single movement or even bother with a conversation with the younger girl. Frisk assumed that he was doing this so that she could finish her art. Though she felt there was something wrong, she continued with her work—content with whatever is now.

 

 

X – X

 

Until one day, her mother was feeding her ice cream whilst her father was complimenting on her works of art, a doctor came in with her usual nurse. Both their expression was grim, and as Natasha turned her attention to Frisk, the nurse couldn’t help but give her a despairing smile. As both her parents went out with the doctor, the nurse kept the little girl company for what seemed like an eternity.

 

Soon, the sound of the door knob creaked, in stepped the doctor, nodding at Frisk before stepping aside. Frisk couldn’t hold back her shock as she saw her father patting her mother on the shoulder, whilst both of them were crying. It was then, the little girl knew—her time was up.

 

Not a day go by that Frisk would watch her mother cry in her father’s arms, wishing for a better future for her daughter. The little girl felt remorse, regret that she exist, sad that she was the reason of her parents’ pain, wished she didn’t exist. The once colorful white room, filled with possibilities, felt like a prison that she will never ever escape from.

 

Not till death would take her away.

 

It was not until the first snow fall of the year that Frisk had taken her last breath. Her body was cold as the ice beyond the window, the room was still like the pond next to the tree, and her parents’ looks as dreadful as the once green tree. A small group of acquaintances, doctors and nurses, friends and family surrounds the small girl’s lifeless body—praying that her next life would’ve been a better one, one without suffering.

 

In a corner sat a boy, with white hair. His cerulean blue eyes glistened as tears rolls down his already stained cheeks. By his side, his younger sibling was consoling him, trying to cheer his usually happy older brother. But he couldn’t, in his arms, he hugged the late girl’s favorite drawing book.

 

It was a picture of him, a picture she drew what seemed to be a long time ago. She had drawn him surrounded by a beautiful blue light, a piece of him alive. The white haired boy cried the most, begging to what higher being that exist to give his former friend a chance to be free—to feel what it’s like to really live.

 

And he too, secretly in his heart, wished that he and she would meet again in a future.

 

X – X

**Long ago, inside a distant memory, there is a voice that says—do you believe in a world of happy endings? Even when the road seems long, every breath you take will lead you close to a special place within.**

 

**Your Neverland.**

 

Frisk awoke on the first day of winter.

 

Or at least she thought was winter. She could feel frostbites on her long petite legs. The brunette hugged herself tighter, embracing any warmth left that lingered on her striped sweater. She was hungry, and regretful that she had left Toriel in such a bad term. But she was determined to leave the cave, she had to—someone out there was waiting for her.

 

Crimson eyes shone brightly, Frisk bit on her lower lip before pushing herself to action. Her heavy Dr Marten boots trudge along the snow, leaving foot prints on the white surface. Slowly, she noticed a bridge in the horizon.

 

Content that she was closer to the town, she went into a sprint. Just as she was making a step onto the wooden bridge, something held her still. Her body shook with fear, her heart beating loud against her chest, it almost hurts. Just as she couldn’t move, the heavy snow fall seemed to calm down—she could hear footsteps behind her.

 

 “H u m a n… d o n ‘ t  y o u  k n o w  h o w  t o  g r e e t  a  n e w  p a l?”

 

_Oh, god. Has what Flowey said was true?_

 

Frisk let out a scared whine, not sure about what to do. She wasn’t sure if it was her fear that kept her locked in position or was it the monster’s magic. Her eyes wants to see who was behind her, but her mind is screaming at her no, no, _NO_ , **_NO!_**

 

“T u r n  a r o u n d  a n d  s h a k e  m y  h a n d.”

 

_Why, why is my body moving on it’s own. Oh god **, oh god oh god.**_

 

**_ppppffffffttttttttttttt_ **

 

The brunette, unable to comprehend stared dumbfounded at the skeleton in front of her. The sound of an artificial fart penetrates from the hand that held the skeleton’s. She could feel the air vibrating through her cold fingers. Her palm, still stuck in between his skeletal one, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He was a skeleton, a monster. Despite that, his grip on her was friendly.

 

His grin was mischievous, and the scent of ketchup wafted into Frisk’s nostrils. But despite it all, it seemed familiar—this meeting, was familiar. The shorter skeleton chuckled along with Frisk, content that he had found a new person that appreciates jokes as much as he does. But he too, couldn’t seem to understand the feeling of nostalgia in his soul.

 

“the name’s sans.“ He said instead. “—sans the skeleton.” It was winter when they met again. And yet, both individuals—met at a fate crueler than the last, wondered—

 

_How would things go this time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this guys-- is the last chapter on FRANSWEEK! :)  
> Keep track of everyone's entries here - http://fransweek.tumblr.com/
> 
> It was fun, thank you to the hosts of this event!  
> And hopefully, there would be another fransweek next year! :)
> 
> Tumblr -
> 
> http://aficaria.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr -  
> http://aficaria.tumblr.com/


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